


Mirror, Mirror, On the Wall...

by junko



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-04
Updated: 2012-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-01 03:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/351320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lightly-slashy story in which Yumichika becomes an assassin for Byakuya (‘cuz that’d happen).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror, Mirror, On the Wall...

**Author's Note:**

> Setting: Pre-Just about everything. Shortly after the death of Byakuya’s wife, Hasana. 
> 
> Notes: Still obsessed with the idea the Yumichika could have been a boy-for-hire in the days when he and Ikkaku were wandering from district to district in search of the next fight. (So knowledge of the story up to episode 120/121 in the Arrancar arc would help to know what I'm drawing on). Also, I collapse time a bit (according to the Anime). Since Rukia and Renji have clearly grown a lot older between the time they discover they have spiritual energy and when their friends have died and they decide to join the Academy. This story could still exist in the universe of the Manga, since Renji’s flashback is super-condensed there.
> 
> I feel, too, that I should explain that Byakuya is one of those characters I take far too seriously. In other words, you may not like him here, because I think, sometimes, he’s a real jerk. Also, at one point the whole thing becomes very Downton Abby. I can't explain it. I guess it's a homage/critique of sorts.

 

 

*

 

 

Yumichika had never been in a room more beautiful. Rows of expensive books lined the walls and a scattering of pretty things were secreted in various spaces among the shelves. Of course, the shinigami who had escorted him here with their up-turned noses and holier-than-thou attitudes had admonished him not to touch anything.

As if he was a common thief!

Of course, he was a common _kagema_ , a male prostitute. But that was such an ugly word. He much preferred “companion” or even perhaps -- he let a finger lightly trace the fine grains in of the low cheery wood table in front of him – “courtesan.” He admired the exquisite craftsmanship of the tea pot set on the table. Lifting the lid, he sniffed the delicate flavors mingling in the steam.

Rich.

It was a nice change from the usual low, rough types.

Yumichika returned the lid carefully, and settled back on his knees. He glanced at the window, watching the autumn wind tug leaves into the breeze. They tumbled, brown and spent, like plum blossoms in reverse.

It would be turning cold soon. Maybe, if this little dalliance proved profitable, he could convince Ikkaku to move to some warmer lodgings and leave behind the drafty hovels and squats they’d been frequenting lately.

But, who knew what was to come of this strange arrangement? The person who sent for him was certainly an odd one, this mysterious client, the captain of the Sixth Division. Deploying two of his or her men to escort him though the gates and into the Capitol City only to leave him waiting here, sitting on the floor in front of a pot of tea which slowly grew colder.

He’d known instantly that the soldiers at his door this morning had not come for fun or pleasure. For one, the sun had barely risen. Most people preferred to visit in the evening, under the cover darkness. Still, it was not unheard of, and with soldiers timing tended toward opportunistic, particularly since they had to sneak out of the gated city.

It wasn’t even that there were two of them, or their stern expressions. Certain men had that dark look when they found themselves at his door. It was more the air of disapproval, and their refusal to cross the threshold, as if setting foot in his place might sully them. Yumichika thought at first they might have come to arrest him. But for what? Nothing he did was illegal. Polite society might not always approve, but it was not against the law.

They’d certainly made him feel a prisoner though, with one in front and the other behind. They’d demanded he leave behind his sword, as well. Then at the gate, the humiliating addition of the collar that would mark him as a guest and allow free passage into the Seireitei. He tugged at the cloth now, wishing he could remove it. It made him feel trapped and completely at the mercy of this captain.

At long last, the door whispered open.

Yumichika knew better than to look up. Probably best not to meet his or her gaze at all. But, he couldn’t quite resist a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. Oh, so pretty! It was like a dream come true! The captain was a tall and handsome man with jet black shoulder-length hair, and – could it be? — wearing bone-white kenseikan that separated three forelocks.

Oh. Not just rich. Royal.

Yumichika dropped his head to the floor into a low bow.

His heart hammered in his chest, but he kept his expression cool, detached. The mystery deepened. What could a nobleman want with someone like him?

The door shut, and, in a soft sigh of silks, the captain settled across from him. “Sit up,” he commanded, a deep voice clearly used to obedience. “I apologize for keeping you waiting.”

“Please, my lord, think nothing of it. I am at your service, to be used however you desire,” Yumichika said and lifting the pot, poured the captain’s tea. He kept his eyes downcast.

Returning the pot to its place, Yumichika sat back down. He folded his hands neatly in his lap and waited, head bowed. Silence stretched for an uncomfortably long moment, causing Yumichika to fret. Had he said something wrong? Was he too flirtatious, too frank? Truthfully, he knew only a little how to play at being an _orian_ , one of the fancy, painted ladies who did nothing but pour tea and recite poetry to men like this one. Perhaps he’d already betrayed himself a lesser skilled companion?

“About that,” the captain said, taking a distracted sip of tea. “I understand you travel through all the Rukongai districts.”

How delightfully graceful the way the captain avoided even the barest implication as to why or on what business, “I do, my lord.”

“I’m looking for someone,” he said. A picture of a woman appeared on the table in front of Yumichika. She was bright-eyed with a heart-shaped face and short black hair. Skin pale and flawless, she had a smile that radiated gentle kindness.

“She’s beautiful,” Yumichika breathed.

“She’s dead,” he said coldly. “However, her sister is bound to look something like her.”

“Oh.”

Because what did you say to that?

The captain continued, “I’ve searched fruitlessly for months, and there are duties I’ve neglected.”

“Oh! You want me to look for this missing girl?” Yumichika asked incredulously, momentarily forgetting to keep his eyes down. The gaze that met his was ice, steel gray, and seemed to slice deep into Yumichika’s heart. With a flutter, he lowered his lashes. “But, my lord, surely there are people more suited to this task already in your employ.”

“Perhaps,” the captain allowed. “But few I could command more completely.”

Indeed. _That silk scarf around your neck could buy my very soul._

“Besides, you’re in an ideal position. You can move freely in places a captain of the Gotei Thirteen cannot.”

Yes, it was difficult for even the lowest-ranking shinigami not to be gawked at outside the Seireitei when they paid custom to Yumichika’s business. In all honesty, it was far more surprising that he hadn’t already heard rumors of a noble captain combing the streets for some lost child.

“Also,” the captain continued. “Were I to send for you occasionally no one would think much of it.”

It seemed he’d thought of everything. “Very well,” Yumichika said, with a slight bow. “Does the sister have a name?”

“Rukia.”

A name and a possible face – it wasn’t much to go on, but there were certainly worse things Yumichika could be doing with his time.

“Can I count on your discretion? She must not know I’m looking for her.”

And yet he’d been wandering through the back alleys of the Rukongai himself? He smiled into his lap. Cute, but this captain clearly needed Yumichika’s help. “I do have experience with discretion, my lord. Perhaps you knew that when you sent for me?”

“Just so,” he said, with a slight hint of amusement. His voice more serious, he asked, “We have a deal?”

Yumichika inclined his head. “I am at your command, my lord.”

“Then there’s only the matter of payment.”

The words were like a slap. His hands few to cover his mouth, and stop the gasp of horror. A deep blush flushed Yumichika’s face and he collapsed into his knees in deep shame. “Gah! No! Please, my lord, let such indelicate matters be negotiated between myself and your proxy.”

Silence stretched while Yumichika trembled. Then a soft sigh, “Is that the way things are usually done? You can arrange it?”

Relief flooded his body. “Yes, of course, my lord. Leave it to me.”

“Very well,” he stood. Yumichika stayed completely hunched in a bow. “I must trust that you will make this look… appropriate.”

“Everyone will assume you have taken a _wakashū_ , nothing more.”

“Good.”

#

 

Ikkaku waited for him at the gate, frantically pacing and clearly ready to take on the escort the moment they crossed out of the city proper. But the soldiers didn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, they stopped just inside the invisible barrier, leaving Yumichika to cross back on his own.

“Cowards!” Ikkaku shouted after them, raising his fist.

Once over the line, Yumichika tore the unsightly collar from his neck and let it fall in the dust.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Ikkaku shouted turning his attention to his friend now that soldiers had disappeared back into the capitol’s streets. His bald head gleaming in the afternoon sun, “I get back and everyone tells me you were taken away. Taken! By armed guard!! I’ve been trying to figure out what the hell has been going on for hours!”

 _Everyone._ For someone so concerned about discretion, Captain Byakuya Kuchiki certainly lacked any sense of it. Yumichika had finally learned his new benefactor’s name via the proxy, an appropriately low-level servant of the household with whom he’d spent much of the early afternoon negotiating. Given the captain’s particular needs, Yumichika had to play the pouting, greedy gold digger in order to assure that the servant could expect messages from him, demanding more “gifts” of the lord. In reality, it would be Yumichika’s way of sending news of the missing girl.

When he looked up from his thoughts, Ikkaku was still glaring into his face, angry and indigent on his behalf. “No need to be worried.” Yumichika said with a pretty smile, and a rustle of his kimono pocket to reveal the clink of coins. “It seems I merely have a new friend in high places.”

“Oh.” The agitation in Ikkuka’s stance faded. A slow, wicked smile spread across his face. He slapped Yumichika on the shoulder, “Right. Of course! Well done. Let’s celebrate our good fortune!”

#

 

Snow fell in large, lovely flakes just beyond the ragged curtain of the window out of which Yumichika leaned. Ikkaku had found good hunting grounds in the hungry, cruel streets of the _Inuzuri_ district, and, it seemed, so had he.

As he watched, approving, the way the flakes covered and obscured the filth of this place, Yumichika considered his next move. He would send word, of course, but he wasn’t sure how happy the captain would be to discover the sort of people the girl was running with, and how Yumichika might never have found her, but for the clever hands of a pickpocket.

A thief.

And in such rough, masculine company.

Perhaps such details could be withheld. Yumichika had been able to uncover much about his benefactor in the passing weeks. Rukia was the sister to a beloved dead wife. Surely, Captain Kuchiki only wished to know that his wife’s sister was alive and well.

#

“What? Where?!”

Yumichika cringed at the harshness of Byakuya’s voice and the corresponding sharp spike of reistsu.

They had arranged to meet as before, inside the Seireitei. The captain had summoned him previously, and so it seemed a perfectly reasonable way to stage another rendezvous. This time, however, Yumichika had insisted that he be shown to the captain’s private quarters and at a time more suitable for assumptions to be made about their business.

Selfishly, he’d positioned himself near the fireplace. He knelt on the marble hearth, his head properly bent, but his back warmed and cozy. The snow had turned to sleet in the day and a half it had taken for Yumichika to travel to the first district, and he shamelessly dripped onto the stone.

“ _Inuzuri_ , my lord,” he repeated.

“We have to get her out of there,” Byakuya snarled.

Even with his eyes lowered, Yumichika could see Byakuya’s fists clenching at his side. The captain, playing along with their ruse, wore an amber silk dressing gown with delicate embroidered swallows that fluttered in bronze and crimson at the hem just over his naked ankles and feet. Even his toes seemed aristocratic, Yumichika mused until his brain finally interpreted the words his ears had plainly heard, “Wait, we need to get her out?” he repeated stupidly. “ _We_?”

“Yes! Instantly!” he insisted sharply. “I can hardly imagine a worse place.”

Of course, there were a few, but Yumichika didn’t correct him. Inuzuri was bad enough. Yet if anyone could survive there, it would be Rukia. Yumichika had been rather charmed by what he’d observed of the scrappy, foul-mouthed little thief. She was deviously resilient, and, besides, she had her gang of boys around her. At least one of them, the broad-shouldered red-head, seemed ferociously protective of her. “It’s hardly discreet to charge in like an ox,” Yumichika noted drily. “She might guess your secret, my lord, if you swept down in your shining armor to rescue her.”

“Hmph.” Byakuya leaned against a dresser. He crossed his arms over his chest, and frowned at Yumichika. At least, without looking at him directly, that’s what Yumichika guessed by the sudden focusing of glaring reistsu in his direction. “What do you suggest, then?”

It would mean letting Ikkaku move on without him, but what else could he offer? “I could look out for her.”

“You?” Byakuya snorted in disbelief.

Yumichika ignored the insult, though it was grating from someone at least as pretty as he. Surely, someone so handsome had been underestimated in the past, as well? Yumichika shrugged. “My lord would prefer to send a company from the Sixth? That wouldn’t be obvious in the least.”

Stony silence was the only response to Yumichika’s snarky quip. Once again, he worried that he’d overstepped. At least he’d remembered to pepper in the proper honorifics. Not that it would matter if Captain Kuchiki ordered him dragged out and beaten by the house guards for the insult.

After several long moments, Byakuya muttered, “You’re infuriating.”

He swallowed his relief. Bowing his head deeply in acknowledgment and gratitude, he said, “My special gift, sir.”

A surprisingly gentle laugh, and a teasing question, “How do you keep anyone sweet?”

“It’s not conversation most people are after,” Yumichika admitted.

“I see,” Byakuya said, his tone turning grim again.

Yumichika bowed deeply again, “Apologies for my crudeness, my lord.”

“I suppose it can’t be helped,” he sniffed. Byakuya’s attention seemed to turn inward, and Yumichika hazarded a glance at him. His regal features were drawn into a frown and he stared at a framed picture on the wall. It was of his beautiful wife, smiling so heartbreakingly sweetly. Byakuya’s voice was low and sad. “It’s hard out there, isn’t it?”

 _Very._ But that would hardly comfort Byakuya. “Rukia is tough. From what I saw, she’s very resourceful, as well. She’ll survive.”

“Survive?” Byakuya seemed disgusted at the thought. “That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? Surviving?”

His jaw clenched. “There’s no shame in what I do.”

“I won’t see Rukia forced into the same choices.”

Yumichika snorted. “She won’t. She doesn’t work for her bread. She steals it.”

A sudden blast of air rustled in front of him, _flash step_? Yumichika had no time to react to the backhand which sent him sprawling to the floor. He cradled his cheek in his hands. His entire body trembled with the effort to hold himself back from pulling himself to his feet and returning the favor. That bastard! His face! Not only did a bruise mar his beauty, but it also guaranteed nothing but rough trade until it healed.

“You will not speak of her again.”

How could he with a swollen jaw? But, he just lay there, and nodded feebly, hating the fact he couldn’t give as good as he got. Still, it’d been his own damn fault. He’d promised himself not to mention half of what he knew about that spunky little shoplifter. Imagine what kind of damage the captain would do if he let slip that she ran with a bunch of rowdy hoodlum boys. Boys her own age; boys that probably wanted to fuck her, if they hadn’t already.

Byakuya turned his back to him. “Get up. Stop sniveling.”

Fuming, more like, but Yumichika pulled himself back onto his knees and readjusted his kimono. He flipped his long ponytail back over his shoulder, and felt his teeth with his tongue. A little blood, but at least, there was no permanent damage. He moved slightly away from the warmth of the fire. Though it was still a luxury at his back, the heat would do the bruising no good.

Somewhere in the shadows of the bedroom came the regretful sigh of the lord. “I suppose that was uncalled for. It’s true, isn’t it? About Rukia.”

“I’d really rather not say.”

“Hmmm, I guess I deserve that.”

Ha! It would be a wonder if, after seeing the state of him, Ikkaku didn’t call a blood feud on the entire Kuchiki clan.

The mattress groaned lightly as Byakuya settled onto it. He buried his face in his hands. Yumichika noticed that his ebony hair spilled in front of his face; he wasn’t wearing his hair jewelry. The lack of the kenseiken softened him somehow, made him seem almost vulnerable.

“I’m sorry,” Byakuya said at long last. “I shouldn’t have hurt you. I just... I feel so helpless. You must understand. I made a solemn promise to protect her sister as my wife died in my arms. I _have_ to keep that promise!”

Was that real emotion that broke Byakuya’s usually tightly controlled voice?

Hmph, he was far from forgiven, but it was a beautifully tragic tale. “Perhaps there’s a solution to your problem, my lord. I’ll put my mind to it.”

#

 

Luckily, he’d never told Ikkaku the name of the captain who employed him, and his friend was easily distracted by the sparkle of the unusually large purse Byakuya’s servant had pressed into his hands as she fetched ice for his cheek. So massive was her guilt on her master’s behalf, she would have happily arranged Yumichika to be brought back by palanquin had he not insisted it would just mark him for further abuse and robbery.

“I still think you should let me kill him,” Ikkaku said around a mouthful of sweets they’d splurged on. “I could beat his head into a pulp. Divine retribution, I say.”

Yumichika just shook his head. “I may have to stay here in _Inuzuri_ a while.”

“Why? You got the rich fucker’s money. Let’s go somewhere nice for a change.”

“You hate nice places. You say they’re boring,” Yumichika reminded his friend with a gentle poke of chopsticks.

“They are,” he said, gobbling more into his already bulging cheeks. “But what’s so awesome about this pit?”

“For one, you’re finding a lot to keep you occupied—“

“Only ‘cuz I have to keep these creeps from stealing our shit all day long.”

“—second, business here is good.”

That last part was surprisingly true. Granted, the local customers tended to offer barter, much of which was stolen goods, but there was a powerful yakuza boss in the district whose soldiers had money to spare. The mob action was part of what kept _Inuzuri_ so vibrant—and dangerous.

Ikkaku had stopped shoving food into his mouth and was frowning. He had that wildly intense stare in his eyes that he got when he was puzzling out something important. “This has something to do with _him_ ,” he said, using his chopstick to point to the yellow-brown splotch of the two-day old bruise on Yumichika’s face. “Doesn’t it?”

Yumichika tucked his chin away. Still, he had the hardest time lying to Ikkaku. “So what if it does?”

“Don’t be a puppy to an asshole that hits you.”

“It’s not like that. He didn’t mean it,” Yumichika insisted before he realized how stupid and weak it sounded. He tried, “I know what I’m doing,” too, but ended with a simple, “Aw, crap.”

Ikkaku just shook his head like he thought Yumichika was the biggest fool in the universe. “Look, it’s your thing. All I’m going to say is that it better be worth it.”

#

 

Becoming Byakuya’s spy proved somewhat difficult. It was one thing to have found the girl, another to try to keep up with her and that roving band of thugs she ran with. Yumichikia had overheard something interesting the other day, however. Seemed she had dreams of going to Academy and becoming a shinigami. She and her redhead boyfriend clearly had some kidō, but the other losers did not. Though it clearly pained her, Rukia was too kind-hearted to leave anyone behind.

The captain would have access to her at Academy. She just needed to be convinced to abandon her less-skilled friends.

#

 

Byakuya was carefully polite and almost deferential this trip into Seireitei. He’d even arranged for not one, but two cups of tea, and a plate of imported fruit to be brought up to his quarters. The servant who arrived with the tray, however, couldn’t resist a long, curious look at Yumichika. Byakuya had to chase him out with a meaningful throat clearing.

“You think they could be bribed?” Byakuya asked, shutting the door before settling across from Yumichika. Tonight’s dressing gown was pale blue and had a fine needlework of indigo and white fruit bats flapping along the hems.

Yumichika poured Byakuya’s tea first, and then his own. “We could try, my lord, but this gang is very tight. They’d probably tell her all about it.”

“Ah, discretion: my old enemy.”

A joke? Yumichika laughed lightly. “Indeed, my lord.”

“Is there no other way?”

Yumichika had actually put a lot of thought into the problem on the long trek up to the capitol. “Perhaps they couldn’t be lured away from her so directly,” Yumichika offered. “But, I have some contacts among the local crime lords. There are a lot of exciting, well-paying jobs for young ruffians. It might be that they would be interested in such bait.”

“What about Rukia? Wouldn’t you be endangering her with this mob business?”

“She’s much brighter than those other louts,” Yumichika said, slicing the apple for them. “She’d never get involved with organized crime.”

Byakuya seemed to consider this for a moment as he sipped his tea. “Wouldn’t she work to keep her friends out of trouble, then?”

Ah! Tirelessly, no doubt. From what Yumichika saw she could be very persuasive -- well, bossy, more like. Even so, her friends followed her every command. She was clearly their leader. Yumichika shook his head, disappointed to see his plan so easily defeated. “You’re right. She’s too loyal by far. That’s the trouble we’ve had from the start.”

“Well, if the yakuza is there, we could simply hire them killed.”

The knife slipped from Yumichika’s hand and he nearly sliced his thumb. He couldn’t stop his gaze from lifting; he had to see if Byakuya was serious.

So cold, those eyes!

And empty, too – was this what grief did to him? Hollow out his soul? Which one of them had died that day, Yumichika wondered, her or _him_?

Yumichika lowered his eyes again and shook his head. “Think this through a moment, my lord. Things like this… they never stay buried. If Rukia ever found out that you hired her friends’ murder, she would never forgive you.”

“But she would be _safe_.”

“But....” The logic was sound-- sort of, if that was all that truly mattered to Byakuya. Yumichika cast around desperately for another way to discourage this insane plan. “But you would be compromised!” he said triumphantly. “You’re the twenty-eighth head of your clan. Do you really want to trust a low-life mob boss with your secrets? Especially one so powerful that he could use it to destroy you or your family? You’d set yourself up for blackmail!”

It must have been the right thing to say, because Byakuya grew quiet.

Yumichika let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and went back to setting a few apple slices in Byakuya’s plate. He really wanted to taste a winter apple, but he wasn’t allowed to touch his until Byakuya ate.

Instead, Byakuya reached out a finger and slid it lightly under the guest collar around Yumichika’s neck. Yumichika froze, though his heart ticked wildly. Byakuya had never touched him like this before.

A light tug encouraged Yumichika to lean in closer. Down cast eyes were afforded the view of a very trim chest through the folds of silk. This near, Byakuya smelled of jasmine. His breath whispered hotly against Yumichika’s ear, causing more than his heart to flutter.

“You could do it,” Byakuya’s voice was like a stone dropped in a deep well.

Yumichika’s mouth went dry. He pulled away sharply, nearly tearing the collar. “What?”

“You’ve already proven yourself loyal--”

“Oh! But—“

“--and you have no power to exercise over me. A mafia boss might be believed, but you’d look like a jilted lover… no, not just a jilted lover, a greedy little whore.”

He might as well as struck again, so painful were the words. Yumichika couldn’t contain his anger and he pushed the table over, with a crash. The fragile tea pot shattered and the uncut apples rolled across the floor. He raised his eyes and a fist, “You bastard.”

“Go ahead,” Byakuya taunted coolly. “Strike, if you dare.”

Yumichika considered it for a long moment, his hand trembling. He couldn’t though, could he? That little tug at the collar around his throat, it hadn’t been a sexual advance at all, but a reminder. A reminder of who held all the power here. If the thin slip of cloth were removed, alarms would sound. He was an outsider here of the highest degree.

More than that, the truth was, if he punched Byakuya – hell, if he even tore a seam of that expensive robe – his life could be forfeit. When this started, he might not think the captain capable of such outright cruelty, but he was beyond counting on Byakuya’s mercy. He’d seen the coldness behind those eyes. There would be no hesitation. No remorse.

With a strangled cry, he drove his fist into the hard wood of the floor. He dropped his head in shame, fighting back bitter tears.

“That’s my choice is it? Kill or be killed?”

Byakuya stood up. He turned and walked to the door. “It must be done soon. I will not tolerate the thought of Rukia in _Inuzuri_ for another month.”

The door opened. He was dismissed. That was it? Yumichika’s voice shook with unspent anger and desperation: “What if I’d rather die?”

“Then you will die and I will find someone I can exploit more completely. But I believe you and I both know what you are. We’re merely negotiating price.”

#

 

Yumichika was half way across the courtyard when the servant came running after him. “Mr. Ayasegawa! You’ve left without your... things.”

Payment, she meant. He quickened his pace, keeping his face turned away. “This time it’s on the house.”

_This time, after all, it was blood money._

“No,” she insisted, catching his arm. The woman ran the household, and, thus, was properly thin and stern-looking. But, her voice was kind when she said, “Don’t think we didn’t hear. You’ve had another argument with the master. Are you quite all right?”

He could only shake his head mutely. “No. Not all right.”

“It’s the grief,” she insisted, like she had last time. “We thought it was probably okay, given that you were... so very different. But, it’s too soon.”

She clasped Yumichika’s hand and pressed the purse into his palm. He tried to push it back at her. “I... I can’t take his money. Not this time.”

“Are you badly injured?”

He snorted. He wasn’t hurt anywhere it would show, but he was beaten, broken. “I am, dear woman, completely undone.”

She covered her mouth, and her eyes are wide with horror. But, then she steadied herself, her grip on his hand as firm and insistent as her tone. “You must come back inside, Mr. Ayasegawa. I can’t let you leave like this.”

If any fight remained in him, he would have protested. As it was, she was able to gently lead him back into the Kuchiki mansion. This late in the evening, most of the servants had gone to bed, but the few that loitered in the kitchens looked up curiously when they entered. Seeing the house steward, they all stood up respectfully.

“Mr. Takahashi,” she said looking at one of the men. “Would you be so kind as to bring Mr. Ayasegawa some more tea?”

“Is he going to break this set too?”

The steward gave Takahashi a hard look until he bobbed his head and ran off to fetch the things. The other servants, two young girls, took hint and found things to busy themselves with elsewhere.

“Please,” the steward said. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Tired of kneeling, Yumichika chose to stand near the fireplace. There were no more than embers left, but they still radiated warmth. He sighed, leaning a shoulder against the stone. “This isn’t necessary,” he said, tiredly. “I should… I need to just get home.”

What he needed more than anything was Ikkaku. It was time to confess to everything, and let Ikkaku help him sort this horrible mess out. At least he’d been smart enough to exact a promise of his own from the captain. Whether or not the bastard would keep it was another question.  But, one thing at a time...

The steward’s voice cut through his frantic thoughts. “I know this is difficult to imagine,” she said, standing primly, still clutching the silk bag of money in her hands. “But, this house was once full of laughter. There were guests, parties, and so much _love._ I’m terribly sorry that you’ve never seen his lordship smile. It’s… breathtaking.”

He didn’t want to hear this.

She continued, oblivious to his discomfort, or perhaps, because of it. “I don’t know what you say in your letters, but he’s always anxious to read them, and your words make him... pleased....” She raised her thin eyebrows, clearly at a loss to understand how Yumichika could provoke such feelings from her master. She shook her head. “For a few days, at least, before you arrive, he has more kind words, he’s… gentler.”

But, Yumichika thought, _it’s not me that makes him so happy, it’s news of her, of Rukia._ When he looked up, the steward seemed to be searching his eyes for an answer to a question too indelicate to ask. Yumichika shrugged. “Sometimes the fantasy of a thing is different than having it.”

A slight blush painted her cheeks. “Oh. I see.”

He didn’t know why he was continuing this charade. “I have to go,” he said.

Again, the money was pushed at him. “Please, Mr. Ayasegawa, will you continue to write? If he sends for you again, will you come?”

With a light nod, as though capitulating, Yumichika took the money pouch. But, when she’d finally released it to him, he gave it a violent fling that nearly brained the servant boy returning with tea. The silk burst and scattered its contents across the floor. “I will not. From now on, Byakuya Kuchiki can fuck himself.”

#

 

Yumichika had rented them a room in a fancy inn not far from the capitol and arranged to meet up with Ikkaku. It only seemed right to spend the last of Kuchiki’s money this way. When his friend arrived, they’d ordered dinner and several bottles of the finest sake, and, he’d told Ikkaku everything. Well, almost everything. He still left out names, though this time not for Byakuya’s sake, but for Ikkaku’s.

Now his throat was dry, and he waited anxiously to hear what Ikkaku would say to it all.

Ikkaku scratched at the back of his neck, and frowned deeply. “You know, when I said I was the sort of friend you could count on to help bury the bodies, that was supposed to be kind of, you know, a thing you say. I didn’t think you’d actually ask.”

“You ask _me_ all the time!”

“That’s different!” Ikkaku said, pounding his fist into his knee. “Those are fair fights! The people I cut down are asking for it. They’ve drawn steel! What you’re talking about is….”

 _Murder_.

“I know,” Yumichika choked, burying his head in his hands. “I know.”

“I said, I said, I said don’t go with a guy that hits you. Look what happens,” Ikkaku continued to fume, shaking his finger at Yumichika. “Now we’re planning a _hit_ of our own. How fucked up is this?”

Yumichika looked up. “You’ll help me?”

“What? Of course, you idiot, that’s how this works.”

Yumichika threw his arms around his friend and hugged him tightly. “Oh! Thank you so much!”

“Don’t thank me yet. We still haven’t figured out how to do this damn thing.”

#

 

They trailed Rukia’s gang for two weeks. The two of them found a shadowed roof from which to observe the ruffians this evening. Yumichika crouched near the gutter, watching them. His heart grew heavy. They were just kids, really, and not all bad. Sure, they scrabbled and fought and stole, but now they were just sitting along the riverside cooking fish they caught in the stream.

Smiling. Laughing.

Byakuya’s grief was so awful it would crush the joy from everyone, even this girl he was so intent on ‘protecting.’

“I don’t think we can kill the redhead,” Ikkaku’s voice broke Yumichika’s reverie.

“What?” Yumichika focused his attention on the boy in question. He was taller than the others, a bit more scrappy, but he was nothing compared to the men Ikkaku usually challenged. “Is he that tough?”

“Are you kidding!? No, it’s not that. This whole stupid business is going to be like swatting flies,” Ikkaku said irritably. He stretched back against the tiles, letting his legs flop over the ledge. Lazily, he lifted a finger to point at the way Rukia seemed to lean toward the boy while they joked. “She’s in love with him. She likes the others, but if we take him out, she’ll come after us with everything she’s got. Besides, we could lure the others from her side. Not him.”

It was startlingly perceptive from Ikkaku, but Yumichika reminded himself that when it came to plotting violence Ikkaku was a master.

“So we get those three alone,” Yumichika offered.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “It shouldn’t be too hard. They’re always lagging a bit behind.”

“So… an ambush?”

Ikkaku closed his eyes, and tucked his arms under his head. “We’ll wait until they do their next petty little heist and then we’ll act like we’re making a play for the goods and take ‘em out.”

“What about those two? Won’t they try to stop us?”

“With what? Neither of them has a sword. We have two. That’s two down in so many seconds. It’s going to be over so stupid-fast; they won’t even see it coming.”

Yumichika had no doubt of that, but he still felt uneasy. “Isn’t it a little inelegant?”

“No,” Ikkaku said, cracking open one eye. “It’s perfect. For one, it’s the sort of thing that happens here every fucking day. Second, elaborate plans are for pussies with no serious intent. You want to get caught, plan. I’m telling you, over-think murder and you hang for pre-mediation.”

It was weirdly genius.

#

 

It went off nearly perfectly too. The only mistake they made was forgetting about the girl’s innate kidō talent. If Yumichika hadn’t dodged, she’d have crisped more than the tip of his ponytail. Ikkaku even managed to successfully rob the punks, knocking the red-haired kid out with the back of his sword’s sheath.

As predicted, the whole ugly affair was over in less than a minute. Though they had taken some care to obscure their identities, Yumichika doubted that either survivor would remember much of what happened.

Now, the only thing left was one last encoded letter to the Sixth Division.

 

#

 

It was tempting to write: _your wife’s beloved sister buried her dearest friends high on a hill. Now she shares your grief, your loss, your emptiness. She cried for days, but she’s better than you are by far. It won’t kill her. More’s the pity. I would have you lose everything._

Instead, the missive simply said: _it’s done._

 

_#_

 

Byakuya Kuchiki was a man of his word. Despite being on high alert for weeks, no one came to silence them. Strangely, the lack of response infuriated Yumichika. He was nothing to Kuchiki, after all.

Nothing.


End file.
